


When My Tears Become Starlight, Maybe You'll See Me

by sherleigh



Category: SHINee
Genre: Hanahaki Disease, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-31
Updated: 2018-03-03
Packaged: 2019-03-11 22:42:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 15,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13534059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherleigh/pseuds/sherleigh
Summary: Kibum makes Taemin's heart burst into bloom





	1. seed

 

There’s this saying.

 

That you don’t fall in love when you say your I do’s at a wedding, but on those quiet mornings when that someone hands you a cup of tea with the newspaper and you realise that you love them more than can be expressed in words.

 

For Taemin, it happens as he’s sitting at the kitchen table watching Kibum make chicken stew for dinner.

 

He’s wearing that striped t-shirt that he really likes. It’s got odd proportions – a boat neck and three-quarter way sleeves – but it looks good Kibum, like most things do. He’s using this huge knife to chop garlic and it should look ridiculous, but he just looks graceful. He’s not smiling or frowning or betraying much of an expression at all, just focused. In this moment, he’s just Kim Kibum, a man who is cooking dinner.

 

And Taemin looks at him – this face, this person that he’s seen day in and day out for ten years – and all he can think is that Kibum is just so beautiful _I love you_.

 

There’s a tickle in his throat. Taemin wants a glass of water but he’s captivated by fair skin _delicate_ and competent hands _strong_.

 

Kibum looks up and the spell breaks. “Can you open the wine?”

 

“It’s in the fridge, right?” Taemin slides off the stool and heads for the drawer with the corkscrew, feeling an unfamiliar touch of pride that he knows Kibum’s flat _home_ well enough that he knows where all the utensils are.

 

“Yeah. Are you coming down with a cold or something, you sound bit weird.”

 

“I’m just thirsty.” Taemin uncorks the wine and pours it into two glasses. He’s not as big a fan of wine as Kibum and he prefers whites to reds. This Moscato is a bit too sweet for his taste, but he’s not going to complain, seeing how he’s contributed nothing other than his presence for this dinner.

 

~

 

“How is it?”

 

“Oh… um, it’s good? I like it.”

 

“Yah…” There’s a difference between SHINee’s Key saying ‘yah’ and Kim Kibum saying ‘yah’. Taemin hasn’t yet decided which one is his favourite. When he’s Key, it’s pitched higher and more playful. When he’s Kibum, it’s low and deep and genuinely exasperated. “What is the matter with you today?”

 

Taemin shrugs. How can he explain that he finds Kibum so distractingly beautiful like this? “There’s nothing you make that isn’t good. I like everything.”

 

“I should have asked Jjong.” Kibum sounds annoyed, but he’s blushing slightly so Taemin knows he doesn’t mean it.

 

The pink of his cheeks makes Taemin breathe wrong and there’s that tickle in the back of his throat again. Taemin swallows a mouthful of wine and helps himself to more stew and silently wonders whether this sudden surge of feelings is something he should talk about with Jongin.

 

~

 

It’s that same tickle at the back of his throat that wakes Taemin up at an ungodly hour of the morning when it’s still dark outside. He gropes blindly for the bottle of water on his nightstand and takes a drink.

 

It does nothing to soothe him.

 

He can barely keep his eyes open, so Taemin rolls himself in his blanket and goes back to sleep; ignoring the tickle in favour of sleep _ignoring the alarm bells going off at the back of his mind_.

 

 

XXXXX

 

_I don't know how frequently I'll be able to update this (or any one of my ongoing stories). I'm just writing whatever words want to be written, if you get what I mean, and letting things be the way they are._

 

 

 


	2. Shoot

It’s pink.

 

Purplish-pink. There must be a word for this specific colour, but Taemin doesn’t know it.

 

It lies so prettily on the white porcelain of his sink _pink porcelain like Kibum’s cheeks when he blushes_ and Taemin feels sort of numb. Hanahaki disease is something that happens to someone else – to Jonghyun, to Taesun, to his vocal coach – but he can’t quite picture himself pining after someone who’s not interested.

 

Taemin carefully picks the petal up and flushes it down the toilet.

 

It’s only just started. Maybe it’ll go away in a few days. There’s really no need to tell anyone yet.

 

~

 

It feels like even the walls have eyes.

 

Taemin coughs slightly. Jonghyun and Jinki turn to look at him, and he wonders whether they can tell the difference between a flower cough and a flu cough. Is there difference at all? They must have noticed that he’s been coughing a lot recently. Should he take up smoking once more, so that he has a plausible cause for his persistent cough?

 

The meeting breaks for lunch. Taemin declines to have lunch with anyone else and instead spends his half hour looking for cough drops in the convenience store around the corner.

 

When he comes back, Kibum hands him his thermos.

 

“I don’t want coffee,” Taemin replies. Kibum takes his coffee black and far too strong for Taemin’s tastes.

 

“It’s turmeric tea with lemon and honey,” Kibum explains. “There’s no ginger, don’t worry.”

 

A sudden fit of coughing prevents Taemin from replying. He can feel the flowers expanding in his chest, as if Kibum’s attention is like sunlight to them. How is he supposed to get over Kibum if he does things like this?

 

“You might want to lay off iced drinks for a while,” Kibum continues, frowning. “We have practice all of next week, you can’t afford to be sick. I’ll bring tea for you, okay?”

 

Is this what it is like to be in love, Taemin wonders, to die a death of a thousand cuts, welcoming each one?

 

~

 

“You’re not going to be able to hide it for much longer,” Jongin says. “Jonghyun knows what it is like, remember? And he said the surgery wasn’t painful at all, so there’s really no point in delaying it, is there?”

 

Taemin sighs and delays his answer by eating a mouthful of naengmyeon.

 

But this is Jongin and Jongin knows him like no one else, so he just waits patiently until the silence becomes so unbearable that Taemin has to speak up. “It’s just… I don’t want to not feel anything for Key-hyung. I really like him. I don’t want to… to not love him.”

 

“Then tell him. It’s not like he’s straight and there’s zero chance of your feelings being reciprocated, right?”

 

“No. You know that’s not how it works, you can’t choose to fall in love with someone. Faking it doesn’t work.”

 

“And you know this ends in death, right?”

 

“I won’t let it get that far,” Taemin says. “If it doesn’t go away by itself soon, I’ll do something, I promise.”

 

~

 

It’s more than just a petal or two in the sink now. Taemin wakes up to petals on his pillow and under his blankets. He picks them all up, and they go from ten to fifteen to twenty and then he stops counting.

 

He carries cigarettes around. Minho and Jonghyun are very open about their disapproval, while Jinki is sympathetic. Kibum brings him herbal teas and heat packs and chewing gum.

 

But none of it matters when – of all people – Choi Jin is driving him home from practice and Taemin’s mouth fills with saliva. He’s thrown up enough _from drinking from being sick from cucumber_ to know that he’s not going to able to hold this at all. He reaches for the door and then it just happens.

 

The petals rise up his throat and fill his mouth and he can’t breathe and he’s coughing and spitting them out and they just keep coming-

 

~

 

He runs and fights and screams, but at the end of the day he’s really no match for the managers who drag him to the hospital and hold him down while the nurses sedate him. His parents just stood by and watched when they came to take him from his house.

 

The doctor comes, checks on the machines that are wired to him.

 

Taemin’s in a fog, dazed and losing the battle to stay lucid. Still, he forms the words with an uncooperative mouth. “I don’t want this.”

 

The doctor looks at him.

 

“I don’t consent. I don’t consent to the surgery-”

 

The doctor walks away.

 

The world goes dark.


	3. Seed II

Jongin is the first person he sees when he wakes up.

 

Then the members.

 

When Kibum walks in, there is a sense of familiarity – but nothing more. Taemin misses the affection he used to feel for Kibum but when he tries to remember what it was like, it feels like he’s trying to catch a fish with his bare hands.

 

No one asks who made the flowers grow.

 

He’s just tired.

 

~

 

He can’t sleep. It’s his bed that he’s slept in for three years now _too high but comfortable all the same_. Adam and Eve are in bed with him _they’re not supposed to be because they shed fur everywhere_ and they radiate warmth _love_. The temperature is just right. His pyjamas are well-worn, soft.

 

But all Taemin remembers is feeling trapped in this room, with no way to escape from the managers gathered at the door. He remembers how he was still dressed in his pyjamas when they came. He remembers how Adam and Eve howled from his parents’ bedroom when he started screaming.

 

No matter how he tries, he can’t bring himself to close his eyes.

 

Jongin lives in the EXO dorm. Moonkyu and Sungwoon live in the Hotshot dorm. Kwonho is in the army and Jimin is overseas.

 

Taemin is so tired, but he dresses up and goes out. Wanders around Cheongdam in the middle of the night. It’s mostly a business district, so everything is shut except for the odd convenience store. There is a pojangmacha in a back alley; even from the road, he can hear the hooting of drunken customers and calls for more food. The ahjumma running it must be doing good business, he thinks. He thinks of going in and sitting down for a while, but it’s too noisy.

 

Taemin keeps walking.

 

When he looks up next, he’s surprised to find himself at the intersection in front of Kibum’s flat. It’s as if his feet remember what his heart does not.

 

It’s 3.20am.

 

Kibum will be asleep.

 

Taemin nearly turns around and walks away but something stops him _he just wants a place where he can rest_.

 

He rings the doorbell and waits. It takes a while but Kibum comes eventually, with Comme des and Garcons tagging along behind him. They’re so big, Taemin thinks absently. Bigger than Eve.

 

Kibum doesn’t ask him anything, just lets him in. Gives him clothes to sleep in. Allows Comme des and Garcons to stay with him in the guest bedroom even though, like Adam and Eve, they’re usually not allowed on the bed.

 

Taemin wakes up to sunlight streaming through the huge windows.

 

And to a pink petal on his pillow.


	4. Shoot II

Terminal Hanahaki.

 

All cases of Hanahaki are terminal eventually. The term ‘terminal Hanahaki’ refers to those odd cases where even surgery isn’t enough to prevent the growth of the flowers _where you love so deeply that you drown in it_.

 

Taemin shows Kibum the petal at breakfast, and watches the colour drain from his face. “Do you know what flower this is?”

 

Kibum takes it carefully, as if he’s holding Taemin’s heart. Maybe he is. “It looks… I’m not an expert in flowers, but it looks like it’s from hydrangeas. I could be wrong. You should ask a florist.”

 

Taemin doesn’t have to wait for long before Kibum speaks again.

 

“Who are they for?”

 

He lies. “Jongin.”

 

Kibum pulls Taemin into his arms; Taemin falls into them easily, tucks his head into the crook of Kibum’s neck and inhales his warm scent. It feels like coming home.

 

“I’m so sorry baby,” Kibum whispers.

 

“Please don’t tell anyone.”

 

Kibum sighs. “Do you expect me to just stand back and watch?”

 

“I don’t want them to cut me open again,” Taemin says. There is a scar on his chest; thin and pale, where his skin was sewn together with an expert hand so that he’ll still look flawless on camera. Taemin would rather jump from a window than be restrained in a hospital bed once more.

 

~

 

Taemin moves into Kibum’s flat. There’s no point living at home if he’s going to be sleeping over every night anyway.

 

When he tells Jongin, Jongin grabs him by the shoulders and shakes him. “What the hell is wrong with you?” he asks. “How are you going to get over him if you’re living with him?”

 

“Maybe he will fall for me,” Taemin insists. “I’m a good person, right? I’m not unlovable, right? Why does everyone assume that I’m going to die?”

 

“If he loved you, you wouldn’t have flowers growing in your lungs,” Jongin replies coldly.

 

And there’s nothing more to say.

 

~

 

“You should tell him,” Kibum says.

 

Taemin’s been keeping him up with his coughing, he knows. Kibum hasn’t said anything until now. Sometimes Taemin can hear him – hear his room door open, hear his footsteps padding over to the bathroom, hear him sigh just outside the door – but he’s never crossed the line before.

 

But today morning, there was blood on the petals and on the pillow.

 

“If I tell him, he’ll try to love me. And then he’ll blame himself when he can’t save me.” Taemin can’t break Kibum’s heart that way, not even if it means his death.

 

Kibum sighs heavily. He looks so burdened already and Taemin knows he’s made the right decision not to confess. “You won’t be able to hide it for much longer, you know. They’ll take you back to the hospital. They’ll keep cutting the flowers out of you as long as they think they can still make money off you.”

 

It’s the unavoidable destination of the road Taemin is on. He’s just not thinking about it for now.

 

“There… there is a way to hide it,” Kibum says then. “It’s all black market medication at this point, but you’ll be able to hide it.”

 

“What’s the catch?”

 

Kibum looks at him like he’s stupid. “The catch is that you fucking die at the end of it and no one else will have known about it. The catch is that everyone thinks you’re fine and then you drop dead even though a simple surgery can fix this.”

 

“Can you really get it for me?”

 

Kibum nods, and then he laughs without any humour. “The things I do for you, Lee Taemin.”

 

The flowers in Taemin’s chest bloom, watered by Kibum’s love.

 

 


	5. Bud

The medication works like a miracle.

 

He takes a pill before work and he doesn’t so much as hiccup for the rest of the morning. Another one at lunch ensures that his evening is free from worry as well. He could take one at night too, but Kibum had told him that it was important to let the flowers out at some time or he’d choke on them before the week was through.

 

So every night he makes a complete mess in Kibum’s guest room. Kibum doesn’t seem to mind, and Taemin learns how to use Kibum’s washing machine and dryer. It’s an arrangement that works for them.

 

It’s an arrangement that is killing Taemin.

 

He goes to work with Kibum. He comes home to Kibum. He cooks dinner with him. They walk Comme des and Garcons together. Kibum is the first person he sees in the morning and the last one he sees at night.

 

It’s impossible not to fall for Kibum when he’s sitting cross-legged on the couch, studying the script for his play. His hair – dark brown for now – falls in his eyes and he mouths along to the lines with such intense concentration that he doesn’t notice how Taemin has stopped watching the TV and is watching him instead. Or when he’s getting dressed for the morning and pairing this top with those pants and making playfully exasperated comments about Taemin’s trusted sweats and t-shirt combination.

 

Sometimes Taemin catches Kibum looking at him. His face _caught off guard_ is crumpled with worry, his eyes filled with sadness.

 

Taemin always pretends not to notice.

 

~

 

Taemin really did live in the clouds when he was younger. He never noticed what the other members didn’t tell him personally how _Kibum and Minho weren’t on speaking terms how Jinki was depressed how Jonghyun had insomnia_ but he’s much better now.

 

Or so he thought.

 

The pasta has been in the oven for a very long time now, so long that even a hopeless cook like him knows that it’ll get burnt soon. Kibum’s been in the bathroom for a long time.

 

He knocks on the door. “Key-hyung, should I take the pasta out of the oven?”

 

There is no answer.

 

Taemin’s heart skips a beat. He opens the door, uncaring of how awkward it might be to walk in on his bandmate in the middle of taking a shit.

 

But Kibum is not.

 

The entire floor of the bathroom is covered in red and yellow flower petals. Kibum is curled into a ball next to the toilet, which is also covered in with petals. He’s breathing raggedly.

 

Taemin barges in, dropping into a crouch next to Kibum _his knees give way_ _in sheer horror_ just in time to see Kibum retch again, a flurry of petals and flowers dancing through the air like confetti. Up close, he realises that Kibum’s flowers are purely yellow and that the dark red staining them is blood.

 

Kibum wipes his mouth on the back of his hand.

 

Taemin feels like he’s about to faint. How could he have missed this? What sort of worthless fuckwit is he that he can live with Kibum for weeks and not have the slightest clue that Kibum has Hanahaki as well?

 

“You need to go to the hospital,” Taemin says absently. The floor is covered in flowers and blood _Kibum must be at a very advanced stage of the disease_ and Kibum is so, so pale.

 

Kibum doesn’t reply. He wipes his mouth again, smearing streaks of red against the pale whiteness of his hand. He tries to stand up, but he sways on legs that don’t have the strength to keep his body upright. Taemin holds him up. “Hyung, please…”

 

“Not tonight,” Kibum says then, his voice hoarse.

 

They stumble to the bedroom, slowly. Taemin hovers _useless_ as Kibum crawls in under the covers. A bottle of the pills Taemin has been taking sits on his nighstand. Why would he even know about black market medication, Taemin thinks, unless he needed it too?

 

“Can you turn the oven off?”

 

Taemin does. He feeds Comme des and Garcons, gives them water and treats and puts them to bed. He throws out the trash and locks the doors. And then, he goes to Kibum.

 

Kibum doesn’t say a word when Taemin climbs into bed with him. He looks so pale, so lifeless.

 

“Key-hyung.” That’s all Taemin can say before his eyes fill with tears. Why has Kibum been suffering alone for so long?

 

“Aigoo,” Kibum breathes. “Why are you crying?”

 

“I will get the surgery,” Taemin says then, desperate. “If you get it too. Okay? What will happen to Comme des and Garcons if we both die, huh? What will happen to those three idiots? SHINee will become a ballad band without us.”

 

Kibum just blinks at him.

 

“Who is it?” Taemin sniffs, wipes his tears away. “Who is this stupid person who doesn’t love you back?”

 

“His name is Sikyung,” Kibum answers. His voice is soft and strained, as if every word hurts him. Taemin inches closer, so close that they’re breathing the same air. “He volunteers at the orphanage that I donate to.”

 

“Does he know?”

 

“He’s married.”

 

“We’ll go to the hospital tomorrow, okay? Both of us.”

 

“Neh.” Kibum shuffles closer still and Taemin pulls his hyung into his arms. Kibum’s skin is cold, clammy. It’s the first time they’re sharing a bed like this. Taemin’s dreamed of this moment a hundred times, but this particular scenario is not one he’s ever imagined. “Thank you, Taeminnie.”

 

Kibum sleeps then. Taemin stays awake the whole night, feeling Kibum’s chest expand and contract against his own, feeling Kibum’s breaths huff against his shoulder, feeling Kibum’s fingers twitch against the skin under his t-shirt. How can he sleep, knowing that he might wake up to a world without Kibum in it?

 

~

 

The managers question him about Kibum’s condition, but Taemin really doesn’t have much information to supply to them. He doesn’t know how Kibum managed to keep it hidden for so long. He doesn’t know who Kibum’s supplier is.

 

When they lead him to lie in the hospital bed once more, Taemin sends a prayer up to God.

 

Please cure him, Taemin prays. I will cut myself open a hundred times if Kibum doesn’t have to.

 

 


	6. Seed III

Jongin is there when Taemin opens his eyes. His chest feels so hollow again; it’s easier to breathe, but it’s like he’s missing a part of himself. The stitches pull slightly with every breath he takes.

 

“How is Key-hyung?” he asks. He doesn’t really care anymore, not in the way he did before the surgery, but Kibum is an important part of SHINee and it’s still a matter of concern whether he made it through the surgery or not.

 

Jongin scoffs. “He woke up yesterday. You’ve been dead to the world for almost two days, do you know? You were in the operating room for half a day. The roots had run so deep that they put you on a list for donor lungs for a while, because they weren’t sure they could save yours. What the fuck were you thinking, Taemin-ah?”

 

So that’s how close he had been to death, Taemin realises, and a chill runs down his spine. It sounds so stupid now. It’s like throwing a tantrum; I’ll just die because this person I like doesn’t like me back.

 

“Can you tell the manager that I don’t want to see any of the SHINee members?”

 

Jongin nods. He reaches for Taemin's hand, squeezes his fingers gently. “You really scared me, Taemin-ah.”

 

~

 

Taemin gets his manager to move his things out of Kibum’s flat. He rents a small flat for himself just outside the city limits, in a hillside suburb where the air is crisp and earthy.

 

He starts working on his comeback. It’s both an excuse to avoid his members and a good way to keep himself busy.

 

He goes out with a few girls. Apart from one rookie, none of them hold his attention; after their second date, her manager calls him and tells him that they can’t see each other because of a no-dating clause in her contract. Her phone has been confiscated. Taemin feels a brief flash of anger at her mistreatment, but a day passes and he finds himself not really caring anymore. It seems like there’s very little he cares about these days.

 

~

 

Inevitably, the time comes when Taemin can no longer avoid his members _Kibum_ without quitting SHINee _not an option_.

 

It’s time for them to promote their repackaged album, 1+1. A small mercy that life affords him is that the songs for the repack had been picked and recorded far in advance of the regular album, so the only thing remaining is for them to learn the choreography and get into the promotion cycle once more.

 

Since Taemin also taken part in choreographing the dance, he’s already in the practice room with Greg Hwang when the rest of them turn up. Kibum and Minho are visibly upset with him, but Jinki and Jonghyun chatter excitedly to him as if nothing has changed at all.

 

Everything goes as well as can be expected right up to the point when they do a first full run of the dance. Jinki and Minho are so out of sync with the music and they don’t seem to be able to imbue the moves with the emotions of the song. Jonghyun is okay, but he’s putting too much energy into what are supposed to be subdued moves.

 

Kibum is perfect.

 

Taemin is supposed to be monitoring his own moves in the mirror, but his eyes betray him. Kibum understands everything; the song, the dance, the emotion behind each move. He doesn’t even get a single line in the second bridge and chorus of the song, but Taemin can’t tear his eyes away from Kibum and the way he dances so perfectly _beautifully_ to the choreography he made.

 

When the song ends, Jonghyun teases him. “Yah, Taeminnie, we can see from your face that you think we fucked it all up.”

 

Taemin smiles, nodding his agreement.

 

“I know I screwed up the line formation,” Minho says. “We can try it again. Just point out what we need to fix first.”

 

So Taemin tells them; Jinki-hyung this, Jonghyun-hyung that, Minho-hyung, everything in between.

 

“What about me?” Kibum asks. He looks almost nervous, as if he thinks that Taemin is saving his worst criticism for last. It’s a look that Taemin never wants to see on Kibum’s face _never wants to be the reason Kibum looks like that_.

 

“You were perfect.”

 

Kibum blinks, surprised. “What?” Jonghyun, standing next to them, echoes Kibum’s question.

 

Taemin shrugs, attempting to be casual while his heart is thundering in his chest. “Key-hyung got it perfectly. Everyone should just follow how he’s doing it.”

 

Kibum flashes him a brilliant smile.

 

Something twinges in Taemin’s chest.

 

 


	7. Shoot III

They don’t win any trophies at all for Tell Me What To Do. Taemin doesn’t really mind. He likes the song, likes the dance, likes the styling and it sells well enough that SM isn’t breathing down their necks about the lack of music show wins.

 

After they’re done with the last stage, Kibum and Jonghyun insist that they should celebrate and have dinner. Jinki and Minho agree, enthusiastically. There’s no way Taemin can refuse. Anyway, his hanahaki is still in the early stages. He gets a little short of breath every now and again, but the coughing hasn’t started yet. He can still hang out with them without raising suspicion.

 

Minho wants to share a bottle of soju with their dinner. One bottle turns to two, to three and before long it’s turned into a drinking party.

 

After the restaurant manager – politely – throws them out at midnight, Kibum says they can continue their drinking party at his flat; it’s just around the corner, after all. Taemin tags along, pleasantly tipsy. He’s missed his members.

 

~

 

“Oh my god, he’s stripping,” Kibum grumbles. “Who let the baby drink again?”

 

“Fuck you,” Taemin replies. He peels his shirt from his arms, rolls it into a ball and throws it somewhere. It doesn’t count as stripping if he’s got a t-shirt on underneath.

 

Minho’s phone buzzes. He checks it and says “Oh, Suho-hyung wants to hang out with me. Hey, can I ask him to come over?”

 

“Sure,” Jonghyun says, as if he’s the owner of the flat. “Ask him to bring more soju.”

 

“And Jongin,” Taemin adds. He misses his friend. “Bring Jongin.”

 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Kibum says then.

 

“Huh, why not?” Minho asks.

 

“I just don’t think it’s a good idea,” Kibum replies, cryptic, and Taemin wants to laugh, because his alcohol-soaked brain finally gets why Kibum is against Jongin coming over. “He’s still recovering.”

 

And that makes it clear for everyone, because there’s only one thing Taemin is recovering from.

 

Jonghyun laughs aloud. “Really, that’s what you think?”

 

“I don’t think, I know.”

 

That makes Jonghyun laugh again. Taemin suddenly feels like he’s drunk too much. He wants to end this conversation, but he’s not entirely sure how to do it.

 

“Jongin was the first person he wanted after the surgery, both times. Jongin always knows what he’s doing, where he is… and you think it’s Jongin? Jongin’s not the one he’s been avoiding lately.”

 

“Can you all shut up?” Taemin says then. Jonghyun is far too close to the truth. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

 

~

 

They’re all way too drunk to go home. Jonghyun is the first to fall asleep, on the couch, and that’s how he gets out of cleaning up.

 

Kibum throws a blanket over Jonghyun, lets Jinki and Minho have the guest room and tugs Taemin into his own bedroom. Taemin knows he should refuse, but what difference would it make? The flowers are back. Avoiding Kibum isn’t going to make them go away.

 

They don’t bother with showering or brushing their teeth, or even with changing. Kibum takes the left side of the bed and Taemin takes the right, and he’s just on the verge of sleep when he hears the sheets rustling.

 

“Taemin-ah?”

 

Taemin rolls over, facing Kibum.

 

“It’s me, isn’t it?”

 

Taemin could pretend not to understand what Kibum means. He could pretend to be too sleepy or too drunk. But there are flowers growing in his lungs again and he’s tired of pretending. “Yes.”

 

Kibum’s leaning forward then, in a move so out of the blue that Taemin doesn’t understand what he’s trying to do until he feels Kibum’s lips press against his. It’s over before he can even think of kissing back.

 

“You’ll be fine in the morning,” Kibum whispers.

 

That’s not how it works, Taemin wants to say. But Kibum’s eyes are so full of hope that Taemin just nods.

 

“Sleep,” Kibum says.

 

Taemin closes his eyes.

 

~

 

His head is killing him. His throat is dry, his mouth sticky. This is why Taemin hates drinking; it’s really not worth the hangovers.

 

The first thing he sees when he opens his eyes is Kibum.

 

Startled, Taemin snaps awake, only to realise that Kibum is still fast asleep.

 

There is a tickle at the back of his throat. Not wanting to wake Kibum, Taemin stifles a cough into his palm.  
  


In his hand, he finds a pink petal.

 

 


	8. Bud II

Taemin lies where he is, drinking in the blessed vision that is Kibum lost in sleep. This used to be a familiar sight and then it just wasn’t anymore; what was an everyday thing when they just debuted and all slept in the same room became an occasional thing when they went overseas and shared hotel rooms, and even that faded away into nothing when they moved out of the dorm and started earning enough to get individual hotel rooms.

 

He’s forgotten how young Kibum looks when he’s sleeping. There’s this mask that Kibum wears, almost all the time now, that makes him look far older and stronger than he is.

 

Kibum stirs and Taemin shuts his eyes, feigning sleep. There’s yawning and muffled grumbling and then a gentle hand running through his hair. “Taemin-ah?”

 

He cracks an eye open. It’s not difficult to pretend to be hungover when his head is actually pounding.

 

“Hey, babe,” Kibum says, voice low. “How are you feeling?”

 

“Headache,” Taemin mumbles.

 

“I’ll get you something for that,” Kibum replies. His hand is still in Taemin’s hair, still stroking. Taemin suspects that if Comme des were in his place, Kibum might be doing the same thing. “Do you remember last night, in here?”

 

“You were drunk, it’s okay.” Taemin gives Kibum an excuse, a way to back out of what he knows is a hopeless quest.

 

But Kibum, sweet Kibum, refuses to back down. “No, I wasn’t that drunk. I meant it, you know. I like… I love you. I know you don’t believe me now, but will you at least give me a chance to prove it to you?”

 

How can Taemin say no?

 

“Okay,” he says quietly. After everything Kibum has done for him, he can do this much in return.

 

“Okay,” Kibum repeats. He’s smiling and Taemin’s treacherous heart feels so light and happy, as if they really are together and this isn’t a charade by two men too pathetic to accept a cruel truth.

 

~

 

“Fuck you.” Jongin spits the words at him. “I’m not doing it. I don’t know what gave you the impression that you can ask me to do this, but you’re wrong.”

 

“I’ll do it.” Moonkyu says this with a quiet resignation.

 

“Don’t enable this.” Jongin is so angry that he smacks the chopsticks from Taemin’s hands as he’s reaching for a slice of swordfish sashimi. “Can you quit stuffing your face for one just one moment?”

 

The girls at the next table look uncomfortable. They probably think that Jongin – all of them, likely – are drunk and on the verge of a fist-fight. Neither assumption is true.

 

“You’re going to get us thrown out,” Taemin says coolly. He doesn’t know why he’s pushing Jongin’s buttons like this.

 

“Stop it,” Kwonho says then. “Stop aggravating him.”

 

“There’s nothing to get aggravated about,” Taemin replies. “The flowers are back. They’re going to keep coming back. I could go get the surgery tomorrow, and I’ll be sick again the day after that. Isn’t better for me to wait for a while between surgeries? And would you prefer me to suffer with the coughing and vomiting while I wait when there’s medication out there to keep it under control?”

 

“You’re buying yourself a few months at the most,” Jongin argues. “How many more surgeries do you think your body can take? This isn’t solving the problem.”

 

Taemin knows this. “Key-hyung thinks he can save me. I’m willing to let him try.”

 

Jongin shakes his head. “You’re lying. You just agreed to this because you don’t want him to feel bad.”

 

Moonkyu interrupts them. “Look, whatever Taemin’s reasons are, let’s just help him for now, okay? And Taeminnie, you have to promise us that you’ll keep an eye on this, that you’ll get it treated when it gets worse, okay?”

 

“I promise.”

 

It’s only when the words have slipped past his lips that Taemin realises that he’s lying. It scares him. He does want to get better. He does want to get over Kibum eventually.

 

Doesn’t he?

 

~

 

“Oh, you’re home.”

 

“You’re awake?”

 

Kibum shakes his head, despite clearly being awake. “Nah, I was just working on my Elle article for a bit. Did you have a good time with your friends?”

 

“Yeah.” What a liar he is these days. “Hotshot are having a comeback in a month or so, after Sungwoon’s success with Wanna One. Hopefully it works out for them.”

 

Kibum nods and yawns.

 

“I’m just going to take a quick shower.”

 

The shower takes no more than ten minutes – quick, just like Taemin promised – but it takes him a few minutes to dig out the cough medication concealed in his jeans pocket, swallow the bitter liquid, open the window and chuck the packaging out. He brushes his teeth slowly. The lady at the pharmacy said that it wouldn’t take long for the simple cough syrup to kick in. He just needs to make it through tonight; by tomorrow, Moonkyu will get him the black market ‘cure’ for Hanahaki.

 

When he wanders back into the bedroom, Kibum has turned the lights down and is snuggled under the covers.

 

Taemin climbs in next to him. His heart is racing; their relationship, which has withstood the stress of training and debut and nine whole years of fame, suddenly seems as fragile as spring's first flower.

 

But then Kibum smiles at him, that smile which Taemin has only ever seen directed at himself. It’s a smile full of fondness and affection and his heart calms. This is his Key-hyung, it says, there is nothing to fear here.

 

“Goodnight, hyung,” Taemin says.

 

Kibum shifts closer, drapes an arm over Taemin’s waist. “Goodnight, Taemin-ah. I love you.”

 

 


	9. Bloom

The medication works like this: you take one pill and for the next twelve hours, you can live like you’ve never even heard the word Hanahaki. No cough, no tell-tale petals. But deep inside you, the flowers continue to grow, continue to steal the oxygen from your lungs.

 

Taemin takes one at midnight. It wears off at midday; he’s usually at work then, either in the practice room, the recording studio or at the gym. Anywhere but home. The coughing starts a few minutes later. There’s always a bathroom nearby that he can run to, to throw up the petals _handful of petals, half a flower_ that have grown in him overnight. Once he’s expelled everything, he takes another pill and gets another twelve hours where he can pretend that everything is alright.

 

~

 

If someone were to ask Taemin how his days pass, he’d tell them that it’s a strange mix of days that blend seamlessly _day into night into day_ that he can’t tell you what he did on any specific day and moments which are so vivid and stark against this dreamy passage of time that he feels like he’s watching his life play out on a screen somewhere.

 

~

 

He can barely remember how long it took to film his MV or when he first practiced the dance with his new all-female crew of backup dancers.

 

But he remembers Kibum noticing the cut in his eyebrow the moment he comes home, remembers Kibum cupping his face in his warm hands and turning his head this way and that to get a proper look at it.

 

“Are you sure it’s going to grow back?” Kibum asks. “You barely have any eyebrows as it is.”

 

Taemin shrugs. “It doesn’t matter either way. If it doesn’t, then I’ll have a cool eyebrow scar too.”

 

“Hah, you copycat! Find your own concept.”

 

~

 

Taemin forgets which days he spends practicing for the concert and which days he spends at the recording studio, tuning the vocals on this and that.

 

But he remembers each morning that he wakes up to the scent of coffee, to Kibum’s sleepy ‘good morning’, to comparing schedules over breakfast _when he counts the hours until he can see Kibum again._

 

~

 

Taemin gives himself an ‘allowance’ every day. Every day, he gets to pick one thing that he’ll ask for or accept unquestionably from Kibum, as if his hyung is actually in love with him and they are dating, for real.

 

It starts small. The first time, he allows himself to believe their mutual lie _that Kibum loves him_ , just for a few seconds, when he comes home in the wee hours of the morning and Kibum greets him with “I’ve missed you.”

 

Sometimes, when the wind whistles and the day seems colder than usual, Taemin will ask Kibum for one of his large, fluffy sweaters to wear to his schedule that day. Kibum never minds, because the sweaters he asks for are always years old, softened from use. Wrapping himself in one of Kibum’s old, soft, slighty-too-wide-at-the-shoulders sweaters almost feels like he’s wearing a hug.

 

On other days, he’ll walk Comme des and Garcons with Kibum, walk hand in hand with him in the park when it’s late at night and no one’s following them, and he’ll let himself believe that he can have this _that he is enough for Kibum that all Kibum wants is to hold his hand while they walk the dogs_.

 

His favourite allowance is a kiss.

 

Whether it’s him greeting Kibum with a welcome-back kiss when his hyung comes home exhausted after his play, or whether it’s Kibum kissing him slow and intense until he’s breathless, Taemin loves them all. For someone who’s playing at being in love, Kibum can kiss really, really well. When Kibum is kissing him, there’s no pretence in it; it’s as if he actually does love Taemin.

 

He doesn’t realise just how far out of hands these allowances have become until one day, when they’re watching a movie together, Kibum leans in for a kiss and Taemin allows it and it doesn’t end. When they break apart for air, Taemin leans back, having already exhausted his one allowance for the day, but Kibum leans in, catches his lips in a searing kiss and pulls Taemin into his lap.

 

Taemin’s body is so touch-starved that it reacts before his brain can catch up; he’s grinding his hips into Kibum’s and lapping eagerly at the tongue in his mouth before he can remember that this isn’t real _that Kibum doesn’t really want this_.

 

It feels exactly like the time he dumped a bucket of ice on himself.

 

Kibum doesn’t seem to notice. He slips a hand under Taemin’s t-shirt and runs his hands _warm hands_ up Taemin’s back. Taemin shudders.

 

“God, you’re so beautiful,” Kibum whispers. “I want you now.”

 

How can he tell Kibum that he doesn’t want this?

 

He lets Kibum pull him to the bedroom and push him onto the bed. Kibum’s lips are on his again, suckling, biting, stealing what little breath he has left. Those hands slip under his t-shirt again and slide over skin; down, down to his sweats and then the material is being tugged off his hips-

 

Taemin doesn’t realise he’s dissociated until he feels Kibum’s hand _the hand that had sparked electricity from his skin_ tapping the side of his face. Kibum is hovering over him, eyebrows furrowed, mouthing words that Taemin can’t catch.

 

Focusing, he hears his name, mixed in with apologies and pleas. “Huh?”

 

“Taemin-ah, hey, it’s okay. I’ve stopped, see? I’m sorry, we don’t have to do anything, okay? Taeminnie, please-”

 

“I’m fine,” Taemin forces himself to say then. He feels nauseous _feels naked_ under Kibum’s concerned gaze. He sits up, displacing Kibum, and practically runs from the bed to the bathroom.

 

There’s a pair of jeans in the laundry basket; Taemin slips them on and checks his reflection in the mirror. His eyes are haunted and his hair is a mess, but otherwise he looks decent.

 

Kibum is waiting for him just outside the bathroom door, but Taemin starts speaking _babbling really he just can’t bear the weight of Kibum’s concern_ before he can. “I’m fine, hyung, really I am. I’m just going out for a bit to clear my head, I’ll be with Jongin, don’t worry about me.”

 

And then he leaves before Kibum can get a word in edgewise.

 

It turns out that EXO is still overseas so Taemin ends up crashing on the couch at Hotshot’s dorm. Not that he gets much sleep. When his phone buzzes in his pocket just as the sky outside is lightening, Taemin is wide awake, lying around waiting for his day to start.

 

Kibum has sent him a message.

 

> I’m going to be filming late today, so don’t wait up for me. Not sure what your schedule is, but if you’re going to be home for dinner there’s kimbap in the fridge. Comme des and Garcons are at 6timber for the day so don’t worry about them.

 

A second message comes in as Taemin is reading the first.

 

> Could you pick up some milk on your way home? There isn’t any left.

 

When Taemin puts his phone down, it is with a sigh of relief. The messages are Kibum’s way of telling him that things are okay between them, that nothing has changed, and he’s so grateful that Kibum is so adept at reading him. His chest throbs; the more time he spends with Kibum, the more he loves him. The flowers in his chest are growing so well.

 

~

 

Taemin ends up buying not only milk, but a few apples, a packet of that grape jelly drink that Kibum likes and a bag of his own favourite chocolate cereal that he really shouldn’t be eating so close to a concert.

 

True to his word, Kibum doesn’t come home even thought Taemin stays up until 2am just in case he does. As he settles into their bed _when did it become their bed instead of Kibum’s bed_ alone, he wishes that at least Comme des and Garcons were around so that the flat wouldn’t feel so empty.

 

A loud creak wakes him up. Taemin sits up, startled.

 

“It’s me,” Kibum’s familiar voice drawls.

 

The room is too dark for Taemin to see anything. He can’t tell how long he’s been asleep; is it minutes or hours? He hears Kibum undress, hears him drop his clothes in the laundry basket.

 

“What time is it?” Taemin asks.

 

“Just past five,” Kibum answers. He sounds exhausted.

 

“Come to bed,” Taemin says, blindly reaching out to grab Kibum. Kibum doesn’t have any schedules in the morning and his own schedule starts at ten, so there’s still time for them to sleep. “You can shower later.”

 

“You’re a horrible influence,” Kibum complains, but he comes to bed anyway; slots in behind Taemin and pulls Taemin into his chest. The bed which felt so empty before becomes a refuge again. Warm and secure in Kibum’s embrace, Taemin has almost drifted back into his dreams when Kibum speaks again. “Taemin-ah… I know it seems like I can read your mind sometimes, but you know that’s not actually true, right? I don’t know what you’re thinking. If you keep everything to yourself, I can’t help you. I know this sort of thing doesn’t happen overnight, but… you have to believe that I love you. That’s the only way you’ll get better.”

 

“I’m fine,” Taemin answers immediately. His heart shudders, nervous. Why is Kibum talking about getting better? He’s been so careful not to give anything away. “I’m really fine, hyung. I’m not hiding anything… there’s nothing to hide.”

 

“If you say so,” Kibum replies. He kisses the back of Taemin’s shoulder. “I love you so much, Taemin-ah.”

 

~

 

The day before his concert, Taemin spends the whole morning with his stylists, making sure all of his costumes fit perfectly _he’s been working out and nothing fits properly anymore_ , followed by press conferences and interviews with more news agencies than he can name. He’s genuinely excited about the concert and performing his new songs, but this aspect of being an idol is far more tiring than singing, dancing or even working out.

 

But then Kibum picks him up after he’s done and they drive all the way to his friend’s restaurant in Daegu to have seafood. Taemin feasts on a spicy hotpot, rich with mussels and more types of mushrooms than he can name, _feasts on Kibum’s stories and hearty laughter_ late into the night.

 

“I love you,” Kibum says when Taemin pours him the last of the wine.

 

“I love you,” Kibum says when Taemin offers to drive them back, since Kibum’s not very confident about driving at night without his glasses.

 

“I love you,” Kibum says when Taemin curls up against his chest to sleep.

 

He’s trying so hard.

 

When Taemin coughs up a whole flower _a whole damn hydrangea as large as a head of cabbage couldn’t he have had a more delicate flower_ the next day, he doesn’t know for whom he feels more sorry; Kibum or himself.

 

 


	10. wilt

The concert goes well.

 

There is no adrenaline rush greater than that moment when he steps onto the stage and starts dancing and the crowd roars for the first time. He’s jumped off planes and bridges and played fast and loose with his life, but nothing in the world beats that moment.

 

He’s still high on the thrill at the end of the concert, so when Jonghyun suggests that they go out for dinner and drinks after, he doesn’t think before saying yes.

 

It’s only once he steps into one of the private dining rooms in one of those exclusive Japanese restaurants favoured by the rich and powerful _once the door slides shut behind him with a definitive click_ and he sees that the room is full that Taemin realises that he really should be more careful.

 

Jongin, Moonkyu and Kwonho are there. Rino. Koharu. Greg Hwang. There aren’t any managers _a small relief, his heart still beats an uneasy rhythm whenever he’s alone with any of SHINee’s managers_ but there’s no guarantee that they aren’t waiting outside.

 

It’s an intervention.

 

Jonghyun speaks first. “Everyone here knows I’ve had Hanahaki three times. It’s not a secret and it’s nothing to be ashamed about.”

 

“Oh, spare me,” Taemin hisses.

 

But Jonghyun continues, even-toned, as if Taemin isn’t seething. “I bounced back each time without complications because I got the surgery pretty quickly. People are always stubborn about getting the surgery because they’re afraid of losing their feelings, but the earlier you do it, the better you recover.”

 

“It’s been more than a month,” Jongin says quietly. “You promised us that you would get the surgery before it gets bad, but-”

 

“It isn’t that bad yet!” Taemin stamps his foot _like a child_. “What, do you expect me to get the surgery in the middle of my comeback?”

 

“You can’t really dance anymore,” Greg says then. “I’ve been watching you. So has Rino. Move is nothing like Everybody or even Sherlock, but have you heard the way you pant when you’re singing and dancing at the same time?”

 

“It’s too low for me to sing comfortably,” Taemin protests, but he knows Greg is right.“Just let me get through the comeback first,” he begs. “I’m not… not bleeding yet. I’ve worked so hard on this, don’t ruin it for me.”

 

That plea works. Everyone in the room knows what it is like to pour your heart and soul into something, to want it to be given a fair chance to succeed, to have your hard work dashed by factors beyond your control. They won’t take this from him.

 

~

 

Kibum is in bed when Taemin comes home, riled up and still unfed. He jumps up and pulls Taemin into a hug and everything that’s upsetting him just melts away and says “Well done, Taemin-ah! I’m sorry I couldn’t be there-”

 

“It’s fine,” Taemin says. It’s not like Kibum can cancel his play. These are not things they hold against each other. “I sent flowers to your play, did you see?”

 

“I posted it on Insta, didn’t you see?”

 

“No one showed me,” Taemin pouts.

 

“Jjong said he was taking you out for dinner. Where did you go?”

 

“Some Japanese restaurant… but I’m still hungry.” It’s true, but there’s something more than hunger that Taemin needs to satisfy; that itch beneath his skin that still hasn’t worn off, that fire in his veins that still hasn’t burnt out. “I can eat later. Right now, I feel like going clubbing.”

 

Kibum nods knowingly. “Then let’s go clubbing. It’s been too long since I last went.”

 

~

 

In some nondescript EDM club in Itaewon, Taemin dances the itch away. Kibum dances with him. It’s always a thrill to dance with Kibum; he’s fast and dirty and he can keep up with Taemin. They dance until the club has to close and the bouncers start throwing people out.

 

And only then _sweaty grimy the sky lightening as dawn creeps closer_ does the adrenaline wear off.

 

Kibum takes him to a café breakfast and Taemin slumps in his seat, exhausted. And in that quiet moment, sipping on hot chocolate _Kibum really knows him too well_ and watching the sunrise, Taemin allows himself to think of the surgery.

 

He will have to get it soon.

 

~

 

Greg is right about the flowers affecting his ability to sing and dance at the same time. Taemin struggles through the promotion cycle, struggles to sing on-key and struggles with moves that should only be too easy for him.

 

The fans are too kind. He knows his performances are far from his best, but they still cheer as loudly as they used to. They love the album. They make memes of him and he plays along, cherishing the innocence of their affection.

 

Each day he promises himself that he will call the hospital and arrange a date for the surgery.

 

And each day he goes home to Kibum; to his smile, his warmth, his sharp wit, his everything, and each day he can’t bring himself to make the call.

 

~

 

On the last day of promotions, Taemin’s eyes well up with tears as he waves goodbye to the fans gathered outside the studio. Somehow, it feels like a permanent farewell.

 

~

 

Something is afoot. Taemin knows Kibum well enough to know this much. There’s this twinkle in his eyes and he’s giggling far too much about inconsequential things as he drives them home. Taemin loves it when he’s like this, so he pretends not to notice.

 

When they get home and Kibum opens the door, there are three dogs waiting at the threshold. Taemin blinks, surprised.

 

And then his brain catches up and he realises that the third dog is Eve. Eve, who is barking and jumping with excitement, who is wagging his stump of a tail so hard that his entire body moves with it. “Eve!” Taemin crouches and opens his arms and Eve leaps into them.

 

Oh, he’s missed Eve so much.

 

“Uh, can you move a little so that I can close the door?” Kibum sounds apologetic, not sarcastic.

 

Taemin looks up, amazed at the magnitude of what Kibum has done for him. “How-”

 

“I know you miss him. It’s in your eyes whenever you play with Comme des. Like, as much as I like this dog, he isn’t my baby and being with him just makes me miss my own baby so much more kind of thing. I know, because that’s how I felt when I went to Hawaii and I stayed with Bekah and her puppy. So I asked your mother to lend him to me for a day or two. She says hi, by the way.”

 

And oh, how he loves Kibum.

 

~

 

“Aren’t your promotions over?” Kibum asks as Taemin is getting dressed to leave.

 

“Yeah, but I have this song I want to record,” Taemin replies. “The composer is free today so I thought I might as well get it done.” It’s true, but it’s also an excuse to be away from Kibum, whose schedule only begins in the evening today, when the pill wears off.

 

Today, as Taemin kneels in front of the toilet and painfully throws up flowers _they’re mostly whole flowers nowadays not pretty little petals anymore_ he notices the flecks of red staining the white of the bowl. Then he notices how the petals are flecked red as well.

 

He lifts a hand to his lips and wipes at the wetness there.

 

And then he’s throwing up again, not flowers but breakfast, because his hand is bloody too.

 

~

 

The song was only half-written when he called Hwang Hyun. He had hoped that the composer would be able to help him with the lyrics, but the words just flow now.

 

And when Taemin records the song, his tears flow just like his words did.

 

“Baby, pass me by now, so that the you in me can remain.”

 

Taemin pauses then, choking on the words. He has to get the surgery now, has to, but just the thought of cutting the flowers out hurts so much. Kibum planted the flowers in him and Taemin wants to keep them safe, wants to keep the little bit that of Kibum that is his alive.

 

“If I knew how to stop, if I knew how to love, would things be different between you and I?”

 

After he’s recorded the whole song, Taemin calls the hospital.

 

 


	11. wither

 

Kibum is still at home when Taemin gets back. That’s expected, since his filming only starts in the evening. What is unexpected is that he’s not reading through his script like he always does.

 

“Eh, hyung, you’re not rehearsing for your filming?”

 

Kibum shakes his head. “We were supposed to film in a building that’s under construction today, but whoever was in charge didn’t give the right date to the developer and we couldn’t go through with it. I’m free until tomorrow. Do you have anything you want to do?”

 

Taemin thinks of confessing then. He imagines saying ‘I have Hanahaki and I’m going to get the surgery tomorrow.’

 

But then he thinks of how disappointed Kibum will be, not with him but with himself – how Kibum will store this away as yet another sword of self-doubt to stab himself with – and Taemin can’t bring himself to do that to Kibum.

 

“Something fun?”

 

Kibum pulls a face. “Oh, that’s so helpful. Really, you couldn’t be more specific than that, could you? Fun.”

 

Despite everything, Taemin giggles. And then he gets an idea. “Oh, hyung, let’s go to a water park!”

 

“Are you twelve?” Kibum shakes his head. “Okay, let’s go to the water park.”

 

~

 

They don’t go to the water park. Instead, Taemin takes Kibum to the lake that Jongin took him to last year, that Jongin in turn had been taken to by some of his EXO members. It’s a long drive and it’s ridiculously expensive to rent a boat and gear, but it’s all worth it from the moment Taemin dips into the cool water of the lake.

 

The speedboat zips by as he comes up for water, just in time to see Kibum expertly balancing himself on the waterski board being tugged along by the boat. Kibum never bothers with the gym as much as any of the other members so he always looks the least toned, but moments like this serve as a reminder that his physical strength is nothing to laugh at.

 

Taemin waves at him.

 

Kibum waves back, grinning widely.

 

The boat takes him away, until he’s a speck in the distance. Taemin takes a deep breath and slips underwater. He stays under for as long as he can, until his vision blurs and his lungs are screaming for air.

 

Is this how it will feel?

 

~

 

Just before sunset, the man operating the boat gets them out of the water and deposits them on the dock.

 

Taemin’s body feels so leaden outside of the water. He feels winded. The last time he came here, he had played for a whole day and didn’t even feel tired. The pills are doing a very good job hiding the progression of his Hanahaki, but these little things give away just how bad it has become.

 

“You okay?” Kibum asks.

 

Taemin nods.

 

“Good.” It’s an odd response, but before Taemin has any time to contemplate what he means, Kibum grabs him by the straps of lifejacket, yanks him forward and kisses him.

 

Well, it feels less like a kiss than Kibum smashing his face against Taemin’s, but dear god, it’s such a turn-on. His limbs feel like jelly, like his body just wants to submit and let Kibum take whatever he wants.

 

Just as he’s about to lick at Kibum’s lips, to deepen the kiss, Kibum pulls away. Taemin opens his eyes _when did he close them_ disgruntled and then he remembers where they are. The boatman is just a few feet away, still with his back to them as he ties the boat and honestly, they’re both too experienced as idols to be kissing out in the open like this.

 

“Yah,” Taemin says, feeling his face turn red “that was too reckless.”

 

Kibum blows him a kiss. “Live a little, babe.”

~

 

Just like he took Kibum to the lake, Kibum takes him to a jokbal restaurant that’s not too far from Jonghyun’s place. It’s pretty nondescript, but the customers are all elderly people who don’t give them a second glance and the jokbal is both delicious and plentiful. What more could Taemin want?

 

“Let’s get soju,” Taemin suggests.

 

Kibum, who’s busy wrapping a slice of jokbal in a salad leaf, pauses. “We both have to work tomorrow. And we have to feed and walk the dogs when we get back. I don’t mind getting one bottle, but you know that we never stop at one.”

 

“Really, just one,” Taemin wheedles. “We went swimming and now we’re eating something hit and meaty and it won’t feel complete if we don’t have alcohol.”

 

And Kibum gives in, just as Kibum always does. He’s so easy. Taemin didn’t even have to do aegyo this time.

 

~

 

“Can we trade children?”

 

Kibum looks at him like he’s grown two heads.

 

Taemin is struggling; Eve is so excited that he won’t stay still long enough to let Taemin clip the leash onto his collar.

 

“He won’t listen to anything I say,” Taemin pouts.

 

Kibum rolls his eyes. “C’mere, let me do it.”

 

~

 

In the park, Kibum reaches for Taemin’s hand like he always does. Taemin drinks in the first touch of Kibum’s palm against his own, the slow slide of their fingers lacing together.

 

Tonight, Taemin doesn’t worry about fans or reports catching them walking hand in hand.

 

~

 

“Can the dogs sleep with us tonight?” He’s asked for a lot of things today. Kibum has given him each one, but this request might be a bit much. Kibum is very strict about Comme des and Garcons not sleeping on the bed. He’ll let them on when he’s working or reading, but that’s about it. “Please? I have to take Eve home tomorrow. Umma says Adam is depressed without him.”

 

Kibum sighs. Taemin tries not to smile too widely. Really, Kibum is too soft for his own good.

 

“Fine. But you’re cleaning the bed tomorrow.”

 

“Okay,” Taemin agrees, promising something he knows he’ll never deliver _tomorrow will be a different world_.

 

Kibum opens the bedroom door and clicks his tongue, and all three dogs come running. They jump onto to the bed, uncaring of where they land. Luckily, they’re all small dogs. Garcons and Eve both come to Taemin, stepping on his legs under the blanket as they do so, and Taemin laughs.

 

The bed dips as Kibum climbs in next to him. “Stop playing with them, or they won’t settle down.”

 

“Oh, would you prefer that I play with you instead?” As soon as the words are out of his mouth, Taemin wants to slap himself. It’s such a stupid, cheesy pick-up line. Kibum starts laughing; that loud, wild cackle he does when he’s genuinely amused, and he topples to the side.

 

“Oh my god, Taemin-ah,” he gasps, breathless. “I can’t even…”

 

Taemin watches him, commits this moment to his memory. He can’t imagine a world where he doesn’t love Kibum. When he feels tears start to well up, he shakes his head and flops over Kibum. As long as he keeps talking, keeps playing, he can keep tomorrow away.

 

“You’re heavy,” Kibum grumbles, pushing at him. “Piglet.”

 

Taemin gasps loudly, theatrical. “Oh my god, take that back.”

 

Kibum pinches his waist. “Oh, what is this?” He pinches another spot when Taemin bats his hand away, ticklish. “And this? oh, it feels like a spare tyre.”

 

Taemin sits on Kibum and catches his naughty hands. “Do you want me to find your spare tyres, hyung?”

 

Kibum just shakes his head from side to side, making that face that he does when he’s playing at being superior. “I’m not in denial about my spare tyres, babe.”

 

There’s no winning against him, not that Taemin wants to. He just giggles, bends down to hide his face against Kibum’s neck. “Ahhh, Key-hyung.”

 

“I love you,” Kibum whispers. Taemin slides off him, nestles into his side while Kibum pulls the blanket over them. He wishes he could thank Kibum for trying so hard. He almost believed it today.

 

He wants to believe, just for a little while more. He says an internal apology to Kibum and leans in to kiss him. Kibum makes a happy sound when their lips meet. Taemin greedily tastes his lips _the lingering hint of soju and lip gloss_ until he’s breathless _too quick, far too quick_.

 

He settles against Kibum. “Can I ask you something?”

 

“Sure.”

 

“How did you get over Sikyung?”

 

He feels Kibum tense. “Well, after the surgery, I stopped going to the orphanage. I didn’t see him and I guess the feelings didn’t come back. Why are you asking?”

 

“Would you want them to?”

 

This time, Kibum thinks for a while before answering. “I guess I don’t. I don’t believe in soulmates or anything like that. If you like a person and if they don’t like you back, you move on. There’s other people out there. As much as I like Sikyung, I like you too. If I had stayed hung up on Sikyung, we wouldn’t be together. You know that thing you said in an interview once, if you want something you have to give up something else? It’s like that. Why are you asking?”

 

“I was just wondering.” If you want something, you have to give up something else. Taemin had said that in a moment of frustration, but the statement still holds true; truer than ever, given the magnitude of the choice he has to make.

 

“Don’t worry, I don’t have any feelings left for Sikyung.” Kibum kisses his forehead, tugs him closer. “I’m all yours.”

 

_I’ve always been yours._

 

 


	12. Rot

There is a house in Gapyeong. It’s a simple place, but it’s clean and it’s just a two-minute walk from the beach. Taemin stayed here with Jongin and Kwonho on a daytrip a few years ago, just before Kwonho’d enlistment. It has wooden flooring and white-panelled windows and a swing on the front porch.

 

The house is just like he remembers it.

 

The first thing he does, once he unpacks, is to go to the beach.

 

The afternoon sun is high in the sky. The beach is empty. Even the seagulls have taken shelter against the heat.

 

Taemin sits on the hot sand, feeling his skin scorch. If he had gone to the hospital, he’d be on the operating table now, inhaling anaesthetic instead of the salty sea air. He takes the SIM card out of his phone and sticks it down a crab hole exposed by the low tide. When the tide comes back in, the card will be swept out to sea. If only he could lay out here and let the sea take him away as well.

 

At the house, he takes the last of the pills. He’d told Moonkyu that he wouldn’t need them anymore.

 

~

 

The coughing starts just after midnight.

 

He barely has time to pick himself up and get from the hall to the bathroom before the flowers start coming up.

 

It’s not pretty.

 

Taemin bends over the toilet, choking on the flowers clogging his throat as they bloom out of him. They’re all whole now. Pink hydrangeas, covered in saliva and blood, petals crushed by the narrow passage of his oesophagus and ripped between his teeth. Taemin throws them up, one after the other, until he feels like his whole body must be made of flowers.

 

~

 

A few days later – though Taemin doesn’t know how many days – Taemin’s condition has deteriorated so much that he thinks he’s hallucinating the sound of the doorbell ringing. It’s only when the ringing persists that Taemin realises that it isn’t just a figment of his imagination.

 

Could it be the owner? He’s booked the house for a week; it should have been more than enough, it can’t be a whole week already?

 

He peels himself from where he’s lying _on the couch always the couch never the too-empty bed_ , dusts remnants of flowers _flakes of dried blood crusty spit and snot_ off himself and staggers to answer the door.

 

It’s Jongin.

 

~

 

He’s outnumbered.

 

To Jongin’s credit, he hadn’t tried to wrest Taemin off the banister of the stairs that he’s clinging to and drag him back to Seoul, despite the fact that Taemin wouldn’t be able to fight him off.

 

Instead, Jongin had called for backup.

 

His friends mean well, but this is futile. He feels sorry for them, he really does, but they’ve been talking at him for over an hour already and he’s so tired that he’s only catching half a sentence here and there.

 

“- of us, but think of your parents. Are you really going to make them bury their son over something that can be cured-”

 

And that’s all Taemin can bear.

 

“Yes, I am. I am choosing this. If the only way I can live is to not see Key-hyung, if it means that I have to leave SHINee, or if he leaves SHINee because he’d do that for me, then I don’t want to live.” Taemin pauses to breathe. “If you’re really my friends, you’d respect that.”

 

“Are you asking us to just stand by and watch you die?” Jongin asks.

 

“No one is asking you to stay.”

 

Moonkyu sighs and walks towards the staircase. Taemin stiffens, tightens his grip on the banister; he knows he’s no match for any one of them - let alone three – but he’s not going without a fight.

 

“Relax, you idiot,” Moonkyu says. He stops short of Taemin, holds his hand out, palm up. “When was the last time you had a bath? You’re so smelly I can’t think straight. We’ll leave the decisions until we get this sorted out, deal?”

 

Taemin looks down at himself; Moonkyu is right, he hasn’t bathed in days. His t-shirt is blotchy, stained. He feels disgusting all of a sudden. Looking up, he sees Moonkyu’s hand, still open, still offering a temporary truce.

 

Taemin takes his hand.

 

~

 

He can’t stand under the shower, so Kwonho runs him a bath. The warm water feels heavenly against his stiff and sore limbs. He could almost fall asleep right here, if not for the frantic conversation taking place outside the door. His friends seem to think that just because he can’t stand _can’t even undress himself without help_ he can’t hear either. Well, they’re wrong.

 

“You can’t seriously be taking his side!” Jongin’s voice is the loudest. He’s always so angry. He’s scared, Taemin knows. Of the four of them, he and Jongin are the closest; he can’t imagine a life without Jongin and he’s sure Jongin feels the same way.

 

But it’s Moonkyu’s response that catches his attention. “It’s too late. Jongin, he’s… even if we take him back, it will end the same way. Didn’t you see his ribs?”

 

Taemin looks down.

 

His chest is distorted. Taemin runs a hand over the skin, once smooth, that now looks gnarled; the roots are so dense that they’d probably burst out of him if he doesn’t suffocate soon.

 

The thought makes him nauseous. He coughs; there’s nothing in his stomach to throw up, but more than enough flowers in his lungs.

 

The door opens. He retches, tasting petals at the back of his mouth. Someone is rubbing his back. The clean bath water is now tinged pink; his mouth is bitter with blood. He draws a shuddering breath, tries to wipe his mouth with a shaking hand. Someone moves his hand away, brings a wet towel to his face.

 

It’s Jongin. He wipes the blood and petals away from Taemin’s face with gentle hands _with tears in his eyes_.

 

“Moonkyu is right,” Taemin breathes. “It’s too late.”

 

~

 

“I thought you and Key were dating for real.”

 

Taemin eyes Kwonho, wondering if his friend is stupid. “We were dating for real. It’s just that he was pretending to be in love with me.”

 

“Are you sure?” Jongin asks. “He’s been calling me every day, sometimes more than once… the day we figured out you were gone, he came over to the dorm and begged me to tell him where you were. He looked like his entire world had been turned upside down. I’ve never seen him like that.”

 

Taemin’s heart clenches. Kibum doesn’t deserve this. “You have to tell him not to blame himself. It’s not his fault.”

 

“No, you’re not getting Jongin’s point,” Moonkyu says. “We think Key is genuinely in love with you.”

 

“If he were, I wouldn’t be like this.”

 

Jongin shares a look with Moonkyu. “You know, there’s this theory that it’s not the other person’s emotions but your own that causes Hanahaki… in the sense that as long as you believe that your love is unrequited, you’ll get it.”

 

“Don’t talk to me about quack theories. Let a dying man die in peace.” Taemin closes his eyes, not wanting to see the hurt flashing across his friends’ faces. It’s not fair ofs him to snap at them, but they don’t know Kibum half as well as he does; they don’t understand how cruel for them to insist that Kibum is in love with him when Taemin knows that he isn’t.

 

Do they think he wants to die? Do they think that he’s satisfied with the 23 years he’s had, just because he’s far more successful – even as a solo idol – than all of them put together? There’s still so much he wants to do.

 

But he can’t have everything he wants.

 

It’s Kibum or his future; Taemin can only have one and he’s made his choice.

 

~

 

The roar of the tide as it comes in and breaks provides a soothing counterpoint to the constant itch at the back of Taemin’s throat. It’s becoming harder to breathe; he’s always tired and dizzy now, always a blink away from unconsciousness.

 

Jongin lies with him in bed. His muscular chest makes a comfortable pillow. He’d laughed so hard when Taemin told him that earlier. Together, they recount their memories; of sleeping together in the practice room, of sneaking into PC-bangs to play counterstrike, of midnight snack runs, of hot springs in Hakone and crying together over hard-won awards.

 

There are so many of them, so many little moments of his own life that Taemin had taken for granted as they happened. He’s seen and done so much and as he remembers his life from Jongin’s point of view, Taemin feels somewhat comforted about his own death. He’s lived a lot more in twenty years than most people do in sixty.

 

~

 

Kwonho cannot hold his tears back. Taemin pretends to sleep in his embrace, pretends not to notice how his tears make the back of his t-shirt wet.

 

~

 

“I’m sorry it’s taking so long… you have a comeback soon, right?” Taemin has lost all sense of time; the waves and the flowers are constant and his friends come and go in turns. “You have to prepare…”

 

“It’s fine,” Moonyku says kindly, stroking his hair. “Take as long as you need. We’ll be here.”

 

~

 

Someone’s touching his face. Taemin stirs under the gentle hand that strokes his cheek.

 

“Hey babe.”

 

That voice. Taemin’s eyes snap open. Kibum’s eyes meet his.

 

“Key-hyung?” He’s dreaming, he must be.

 

“It’s me.” Kibum draws his hand back, and then he’s climbing into bed with Taemin; moving him, cradling him to his chest. A hallucination wouldn’t be able to do this, right? A hallucination wouldn’t smell of Kibum’s perfume, right? “Did you think you could hide from me, you ridiculous bastard? I’ve become an expert in finding lost things after all the times I had to find your phone.”

 

It is him. His Kibum. Taemin opens his mouth, to thank him for coming, and all that comes out is a sob. He’s missed Kibum so much.

 

“Shh…” Kibum rocks back and forth slightly. “It’s okay, I’m here now.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Taemin says. Now that Kibum is here, he realises just how fiercely he’s been longing for Kibum’s presence, but he’s also aware that having to see him must be painful for Kibum _all his hard work gone to waste_.

 

“I’m not angry,” Kibum replies. “I love you too much to be angry with you, don’t you know that?” His voice breaks on the last word and he inhales sharply, and Taemin can feel how he’s holding his tears back. “Is it painful?”

 

“A little.” Every breath hurts, every inhale, every exhale. “But it’s better now that you’re here.”

 

Kibum kisses him. It’s just a chaste kiss, a simple press of lips against lips, but it’s everything to Taemin.

 

~

 

“Can you keep Eve?” Taemin misses Eve; he wishes Kibum had brought Eve with him. When Eve had turned ten and his family had thrown a small birthday party for him, Taemin had worried about how he was going to deal with Eve’s eventual passing. He never imagined that his dog would outlive him. “He likes Comme des and Garcons and you take care of him better than I do. Adam can stay with my parents.”

 

“I will.”

 

~

 

Like Jongin, Kibum talks to him. Most of the time, Taemin doesn’t catch what he says; he only knows the sound of Kibum’s voice, his inflections and the way his hands play with his hair or fingers as he speaks.

 

Sometimes Taemin catches the word SHINee, or Jonghyun or Yeonggam or Minho, and he pictures their faces, imagines their voices.

 

“Play me one song,” he asks, with a voice that is barely his. “One of our songs.”

 

Kibum plays him a bit of Replay before switching over to Honesty _how well he knows Taemin_. When the song ends, Taemin says “play it again.”

 

So Kibum does.

 

~

 

When Taemin opens his eyes, he knows that he’s close to the end. The world is blur; he can barely make out Kibum’s face. He’s thirsty, but his voice is gone; he doesn’t even have the strength to lift his hand to ask for water _he can’t lift a hand he can’t even feel_. The only thing that is still clear is the drumming of Kibum’s heartbeat, underneath where Taemin’s head lays on Kibum’s chest.

 

“Taeminnie?”

 

Swallowing, Taemin tries to speak. And mercifully, the flowers loosen their grip on his throat. “Key-hyung…” _I lived well. Remember me. Be happy. Don’t cry for me. I’m not afraid. I love you_. “Key-hyung.”

 

“I know.” Kibum kisses his head. “I know, darling. You can rest if you’re tired. It’s okay.”

 

It’s enough for Taemin. He tries to smile at Kibum, one last time, before letting his eyes fall shut once more.

 

The door creaks open.

 

He hears footsteps. Then, Jongin’s voice. “How is he?”

 

“He-” Kibum’s voice breaks. “He…” And then Kibum cries; deep, wrenching sobs that shake his whole body; he pulls Taemin closer, wraps his arms around his body as if Death will physically rip him away. “How am I supposed to live without you,” he asks, seemingly unaware that Taemin can still hear him. “Please, please baby, don’t leave me.”

 

Taemin has heard Kibum cry many times before; with happiness, with anger, with sadness, but he’s never heard anything like this _he’s never heard a heart break like this_.

 

“Please,” Kibum pleads. “I don’t know how to live without you.”

 

And Taemin’s last thought is ‘he really does love me’.

 

 


	13. rise

Taemin’s first thought is ‘I’m thirsty’.

His second thought is ‘I’m still alive’.

 

It’s less of a thought and more of a startled realisation. _I’m alive_

 

Is he really? _Alive?_

 

And yes, he is. He really is. His mind feels clearer than it has in days; it feels like all of those times he’s slowly waking up after a long night’s sleep, when he’s not really awake yet, but awake enough to know that he’s dreaming.

 

Slowly, he comes back to his body. Kibum’s heartbeat is still drumming away in his ear; he’s hot _uncomfortably hot_ where their bodies are pressed together. He can feel his fingers. He can feel his toes and the socks they’re trapped in. He can feel his mouth too, how dry it is.

 

It’s that last thing that prompts Taemin to do a little more than just lie there and take stock of his various bits.

 

He remembers his eyes, remembers how just keeping them open far outweighed any labour he’d performed in his life so far. But now, he’s only thinking of blinking and he can feel his eyelids raring to obey. So he blinks.

 

It’s bright; too bright. He slams his eyes shut against the brightness, instinctively, and turns his head until he’s breathing in the soft fabric of Kibum’s t-shirt _the scent of his cologne and underneath that, his skin_. Then he blinks again.

 

The world is a sea of green. Faded green. Taemin tries to speak, to call Kibum, but his vocal chords won’t obey. He feels for his fingers, flexes them one by one and tries to bring his hand up to draw attention to himself, but his hand is trapped.

 

Now somewhat more used to the brightness, Taemin turns to see that his hand is being held captive by Moonkyu; by a sleeping Moonkyu, to be exact. Incredulous, Taemin turns back to Kibum and cranes his neck up, only to find that Kibum is asleep too, even though he’s still cradling Taemin to himself the way he was when Taemin was dying.

 

Desperate and slightly frustrated, Taemin wriggles a little harder in their grasp. He can smell the wet saltiness of the sea air and it’s only reminding him of his thirst.

 

Kibum stirs first. He tightens his arms around Taemin and then his eyes snap open, as if he’s just realising that he fell asleep. Taemin sees the trajectory of his eyes as they move from the distant stare of early wakefulness down to where there’s movement _where there’s Taemin_ and then their eyes meet.

 

~

 

It takes a very, very long time for Taemin to get his water. Sometime between Moonkyu’s scream of terror – when he’s woken up to Taemin’s fingers twitching in his grasp – to Kibum and Jongin arguing whether he should be taken to the hospital, Kwonho had brought in a bottle of water; had held it to Taemin’s lips for him to drink because his hands weren’t strong enough to hold it for himself.

 

He’s sitting in the bath now, washing what feels like a lifetime’s worth of sweat off his skin. He feels light; so very light. Sure, his chest still aches, but that taste at the back of his throat _the bitter tickle of petals_ is gone.

 

Kibum is silent where he sits on the floor, glancing at him now and again as if he still can’t believe that this is really Taemin. Taemin doesn’t mind though; he has all the time in the world to show Kibum that it really is him _because Kibum loves him_.

 

The thought makes him smile.

 

Kibum loves him.

 

The bathroom door creaks open and Jongin comes in, holding out his phone. “Your manager is on the line,” he says to Kibum.

 

Kibum takes the call outside and Jongin takes his place on the bathroom floor. Unlike Kibum, he stares unabashedly at Taemin until it’s Taemin who has to drop his gaze, shy.

 

“Yah, just take a picture,” he grouses. His chest isn’t gnarly anymore, but he’s lost the pecs he worked so hard to build for the comeback. He feels like a worm compared to Jongin’s imposing bulk.

 

“You’re such a drama queen,” Jongin replies, shaking his head fondly.

 

Taemin is about to deny it – Jongin can flash his chest _his entire naked body actually_ anytime because he retains muscle well, unlike him – when Jongin continues speaking.

 

“He had to, like, weep over your corpse for you to finally believe that he loves you. I told you, didn’t I?”

 

“Yeah, I guess you did.” Taemin smiles at the thought. “He does love me.”

 

“And it wasn’t a quack theory, was it?”

 

“Yah, Jongin-ah, what do you want me to say? I was wrong and you were right?” Taemin pulls a face, teasing Jongin. “Fine, you were right, I was wrong. But I’m still the winner because I have Key-hyung and you don’t.”

 

~

 

Everyone is angry with him. Thanks to his friends keeping his secret to the very end, they all think he ran off to have a beach holiday right after his comeback; a plausible story, given the time he actually ran off to Hakone with Jongin.

 

His parents threaten to cut off his allowance and ground him for a month. At the company, Lee Soo Man himself comes out of hiding to ‘advise’ Taemin about not letting his fame get to his head. The managers are much, much harsher with their criticism; they probably bore the brunt of Soo Man’s anger when he went missing, so Taemin can’t actually blame them.

 

And yet, even as he stands there getting the worst bollocking any SHINee member has received so far, Taemin has to bite the inside of his mouth to keep himself from smiling.

 

He’s tired and hungry, his chest hurts and so many of the privileges he worked so hard to get are being revoked, but all he has to do is look to his right and there’s Kibum; Kibum, who has stayed by his side all day long, shouldering responsibility for a decision he had no part in making and shielding Taemin from the consequences of his decisions.

 

Kibum really does love him.

 

~

 

Jonghyun bursts into tears the moment he sees Taemin. Kibum promptly starts crying too. Jinki and Minho look like they’ve aged ten years. Faced with their naked grief, Taemin feels guilty for running away. He didn’t even say goodbye to them. He lets them hug him, pet his hair and gently admonish him for worrying them _for causing them to grieve over his death_.

 

When all the tears have been shed and hugs exchanged, Jonghyun asks “So what now? Did you get the surgery after all?”

 

“No-” Taemin starts, but he finds himself hesitating.

 

Kibum does not. He takes Taemin’s hand, links their fingers together _he’s trembling, afraid of the same thing that Taemin is but so much braver than him_ and says “We’re together.”

 

The others just look puzzled.

 

“Ehm, haven’t you guys been together for a while now?” Minho asks. “I mean, you didn’t say anything to us so maybe we shouldn’t have assumed, but you were living together, right?”

 

“Goodness,” Jinki says then. “Please don’t tell me you were genuinely just being flatmates?” He stops to think. “Well, that would explain why the Hanahaki still wasn’t cured…”

 

“But you guys were sickening!” Minho exclaims. Taemin stares at him, wondering what he means. He doesn’t need to wonder for long, because Miho clarifies “You know, with the skinship and pet names _babe_ and couple fashion-”

 

“It wasn’t couple fashion, this gremlin was stealing my clothes!”

 

Jonghyun catches Taemin’s eye, winks at him. “Ah, guys, come on, let’s give the lovebirds some space. Us ahjussis can go-” He’s cut off by both Kibum and Minho, the former scoffing “lovebirds, who says that these days” and the latter protesting “who the fuck are you calling an ahjussi?”

 

As they bicker playfully, Taemin remembers how comforted he was by the sound of their voices when he was too far gone to even understand what they were singing. If he closes his eyes, he can still hear the echo of Honesty, like a ghost lingering in the room.

 

Kibum’s hand squeezing his brings him back to the present. He’s not trembling any longer. “So you really don’t have a problem with this? I mean, if it ever comes out-”

 

“If it ever comes out, we’ll be there for you 100%,” Minho says. There’s no doubt, no hesitance in his voice at all.

 

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it, if we ever get to it,” Jonghyun says and that Taemin can agree with. Right now, he’s just glad to be alive and to be loved by Kibum. “Isn’t that right, Taeminnie? What do you think?”

 

“I think,” Taemin says “I think we’re very lucky-”

 

“Fuck me, they’re talking as ‘we’ now,” Minho mumbles, silenced by a jab of Jonghyun’s elbow.

 

Taemin continues as if he wasn’t just interrupted. “We’re very lucky, but it’s been a long day.”

 

Kibum picks up from the end of his sentence. “I think Taemin is very politely trying to say ‘get the fuck out of my house.’ So thank you all for coming and please, get the fuck out of my house.”

 

~

 

And finally, finally, Taemin is alone with Kibum.

 

Kibum sits heavily on the couch and for the first time since he woke up, Taemin takes a good look at him. His shoulders are hunched and there are deep, dark circles under his eyes. Taemin may have been the one dying, but Kibum was suffering too.

 

Taemin sits next to him, bumps his shoulder with his own.

 

Kibum looks up. “How are you feeling? Are you hungry, I can-”

 

“Hyung,” Taemin says gently “I’m fine. I really am.”

 

That makes Kibum’s eyes well up with tears. He’s a strong person and, despite what the fans think, he doesn’t cry easily. Taemin’s heart aches for his hyung; for this person who cares so much for everyone else but who doesn’t let anyone see him struggling, who keeps his sadness to himself.

 

But as much as he wants to comfort Kibum, there is something that Taemin has been dying to do all day. He reaches out, wipes away the single tear that slips out of Kibum’s eye and strokes his cheek slowly. Kibum sighs and leans into his touch; the walls he builds around himself, layers and layers deep, have crumbled at the end of this long day. Taemin leans in, so close that he can feel Kibum’s breath, waiting for permission or for Kibum to pull away.

 

When Kibum does neither, Taemin closes the gap between them and kisses him, kisses Kibum the way he’s wanted to for so long; not a stolen kiss, not a hesistant kiss, not a kiss filled with guilt but one where he lets himself savour the taste of Kibum’s lips, one where he lets himself trace the beautiful curve of Kibum’s lips with his own, one where he licks desperately, hungrily into Kibum’s mouth, over and over again until he can’t breathe.

 

“Oh god,” Kibum gasps after they break apart. His lips are swollen, red, and Taemin wonders what his own lips look like.

 

“I am hungry, hyung,” Taemin says. He climbs into Kibum’s lap, straddles him. “So hungry.”

 

Kibum steadies him, hands on his hips, fingers sneaking under his t-shirt. His thumbs stroke over Taemin’s hipbones, pressing in ever so slightly until Taemin shudders. “I guess I can do something about that.”

 

~

 

“When did you fall in love with me?” Taemin asks.

 

Kibum stops playing with his hair to think and Taemin almost regrets asking. “Well… I don’t know? Do you?”

 

Perhaps he’d phrased his question wrong. Taemin recalls the moment when Kibum had been cooking, when he’d worn that old t-shirt and looked so beautiful doing something as simple as chopping garlic. “I guess what I mean is, when did you realise you were in love with me?”

 

“Ah…” Kibum falls silent for some time, and Taemin almost thinks he’s fallen asleep, when he says “Do you remember that day when we both had early schedules, but yours was slightly earlier than mine?”

 

There were a few days like that, but Taemin just nods anyway.

 

“And we were still going to have breakfast together, but I wouldn’t have enough time to brew my usual morning coffee?”

 

Ah, Taemin knows now what Kibum is referring to.

 

“But when I woke up you were gone, and it was only after I showered and changed that you came back. And you’d gone and bought me coffee, but your manager was already waiting for you by the time you came back.”

 

Taemin thinks he understands; Kibum fell for him for taking the pain to get him his precious coffee. It’s a simple gesture, but one that speaks volumes. I care for you. I care enough to notice what you like. I care enough to sacrifice my sleep to get you coffee.

 

“And you gave me this coffee and usually I live for coffee, but that morning, all I could think was that I’d never drink coffee again if it meant that I could have had those twenty minutes with you instead.”

 

And oh, how wrong Taemin was. He props himself up on one hand, wanting to see Kibum.

 

Kibum looks up at him, smiling softly. “That’s when I knew, I guess.”

 

“I thought you were pretending.” It was so long ago; before the day Kibum sent flowers to his MV filming, before that evening when Kibum had driven them to Daegu for dinner, before the night when Kibum had pleaded for Taemin to believe in his love for him. In retrospect, Taemin was a fool not to realise the truth of Kibum's confessions. " I thought you were just trying to save me."

 

“I was at first. But I meant it you know… every time I said I loved you, I meant it.”

 

“Say it again.”

 

Kibum laughs, shy all of a sudden. Taemin prods him until he says “Yah, yah, fine. I love you, okay? I love you, Taemin-ah.”

 

“I love you too.”

 

 

XXXXX

 

_well, that's the story :)_

 

_i hope you all enjoyed reading this fic as much as i loved writing it. do leave a comment and let me know whether you liked it or if there was anything that you didn't like/that could have been done better. thank you all for the lovely comments you've left on the earlier chapters as well._

 

_love,_

 

_sherleigh_


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